


What is Right

by shingekinosocialskills



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Trans Yamaguchi, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:19:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shingekinosocialskills/pseuds/shingekinosocialskills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot.  Yamaguchi doesn't know if the time will ever be right to talk to Tsukki about who he really is.  What he does know is that being around Tsukki is worth all the struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is Right

I am a man in love, I think as I peel off my shirt and toss it to the floor. My skin is sticky with perspiration after practice and there is dirt accumulated in the creases of the crook of my elbow.  
  
I am a man in love, I think as I step out of my shorts. I stare down at my feet, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror above the sink of my roomy shower stall. What’s in the mirror doesn’t make sense. Today isn’t a day when I can accept the dissonance. I loop my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear.  
  
I am a man in love, I think as I slide them off, shaking them off of my foot with a twitch. The shower is loud, the sound of its spray echoing through the locker room. Steam begins to swirl around the stall. I turn my back on the mirror.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, sliding my fingers under the edge of my binder. It is thick and tight, pressing into the flesh around my ribs, and saturated with sweat. It isn’t my tightest binder, in this one I can breathe, I can play. Still, it clings, not wanting to slide against my skin. I pull harder.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, stretching the band as far as I can, wedging one elbow down through the arm hole and out through the bottom of the binder. One breast comes free, cold after so long pressed tightly against me.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to think about the way the free breast bounces as I struggle with the other side of my binder. I drag it off of the other breast, over my head, down my arm.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, staring at the sweaty binder in my hand. A man in love.  
  
_You’re no man_. The thought is nothing new. It always comes at times like this, when I have to face my body. _You’re no man, you’re fooling yourself._ I swallow against the lump in my throat. No.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, stepping into the shower. The spray feels good against my skin, hot enough to make my skin turn red. I always take hot showers, even when I’m still warm from practice. I can sink into the sensation of the water running over me, I can close my eyes and pretend my body is what it ought to be. I can wash away the frustration of being around _him_.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, and then my thoughts turn to him. _Now, that’s a man._ Tall, lithe, every bit of him well-defined. Yes, I’ve peeked. Just once, changing before practice in the locker room, me in my stall, as usual, pretending I was just too insecure to change in front of the others. I kept my eyes to myself for the most part but that day I caught sight of him through the crack of the stall door. It felt a little obscene, pressing my face to the crack, though he was only shirtless. He didn’t know I was looking. The well-defined muscles of his torso and arms flexed in a way that made me swallow hard as he pulled on his t-shirt. I tore my eyes away and continued changing, hoping the heat in my cheeks would fade away by the time I finished lacing my shoes.  
  
I am a man in love, I think with a sigh. The water drums against my head and slides down my face, dipping into the recesses of my eyes and nostrils, dripping off the tips of my nose and chin. I take the soap in hand and drag it across my body, pretending I don’t care about the swell of my breasts and wondering if it’s easier for me to clean what’s between my legs now than it would be if there were something else there. I rinse off quickly, willing the onslaught of disparaging thoughts to wash away with the dirt and grime of the day. I make quick work of washing my hair, ready for this shower to be done.  
  
I am a man in love, I think as I turn off the water and reach for the towel on the bench. I dry off quickly, paying more attention to my chest. If I’m too sticky my binder will roll in on itself and get stuck as I try to pull it on. I don’t want to struggle with it today. I always rush getting dressed after practice even though he always waits for me.  
  
I am a man in love, I think, gathering my sweaty clothes and stuffing them into my bag. My clean clothes smell like home and feel fresh as they settle against me. The new binder is tighter but today is a more insecure day, so I appreciate the feeling. I breathe deeply, experimentally, testing to make sure I can inhale properly.  
  
I am a man in love, I think as zip my bag and step into my shoes. He’s waiting for me by the lockers like he always does. He’s never questioned my need to shower separately from everyone. Sometimes I wonder if he knows. Sometimes I think about telling him but when the chances arrive I’m too scared to do it. He’s practical and unaffected and I wonder if he’d really have a problem with it, but I’m afraid to find out for sure. Our comradery was so unlikely, I always kind of felt like I won the lottery getting to be friends with him and I don’t want it to change.  
  
I am a man in love, I think as I toss my bag over my shoulder. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stop to stare at the face I see. I wonder if I really pass. Maybe he’s already aware of my biological assignation, maybe everyone is. Maybe they’re all more understanding than I think. _Or maybe they just think you’re a girly man and they’re just trying to be polite. I bet they’d flip if they knew it was the other way around._ I turn away from the mirror. It’s probably best if I leave things be. What does it matter if they don’t know, as long as I can be around my friends? As long as I can be around him.  
  
I am a man in love, I think as I slide the lock on the stall door and step out. He turns to look at me with that same look of stoic grace as he always has and quirks one brow ever so slightly, as if to say, “Are you ready to go?”  
  
I am a man in love, I think as I return his questioning look with a half-smile. He falls in beside me, our arms brushing against one another as we make our way out of the locker room. For now, it doesn’t matter to me whether he knows or not. Today may not be the right day to find out what he knows and how he feels about me. What is, and always has been right is the way it feels to walk beside him.

I am a man in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it wasn't too blah. The idea struck me upon waking in the morning and sort of just fell out onto the page. Please let me know if you liked it! Thank you for reading!


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